


No Rush

by dickviolin



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Surgery, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, the word ass, trans!Jake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9626942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickviolin/pseuds/dickviolin
Summary: Jake is trans. His friends love him. Amen amen and amen. (AKA the feelgood trans!jake fic I wanted but couldn't find, so I wrote it)Hit me up onTumblr





	

Jake is 33 and his girlfriend is so beautiful it sometimes makes his eyes hurt. She’s also clever and funny and so good at her job- like, so good at her job. They should just clone her, then New York would be a million times safer. She can be strong and sassy, she can more than hold her own in a fight. Jake’s glad he’s on the right side of the law. He’d hate to be arrested by her. But she’s also soft and caring and loving. When Charles gets a dog, she immediately begs him to let her walk him. Jake watches her throw sticks for hours in Central Park, never getting bored. He wakes up most mornings with her wrapped round him, her soft warm breath on her shoulder. She hums in her sleep.

 

When they start dating, he’s only mentioned it to her once before. It was when he’d just joined the squad. She’d taken it more than in her stride.

“That’s fine,” she’d said. Then she’d got a post-it note off the pad on her desk and a pen. “So, just so I’m sure- that’s Jacob, Jake for short, and he/him?”

“Yep,” he’d said.

“Gotcha,” she’d said. And that was that.

 

So it’s a surprise when she brings it up again. In fairness, it isn’t until just before they’re about to head back to hers for their first ‘cup of coffee’. In fact, it’s while walking down her street. Jake is being chivalrous in standing under the drips from the fire escapes. She hasn’t said anything for quite a while, but he can hear the cogs turning over and over in her mind, so he waits for her.

“I don’t know how to approach this,” she says at last.

“What, your own apartment?”

“No, I mean…” she trails off again. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or, um, upset.”

Jake is flummoxed. “What are you talking about?”

“If you don’t want to do anything tonight, we don’t have to.”

“Ames, you’re really going to have to give me some context, because I have no idea what you’re trying to tell me.”

“The fact that you’re trans,” she finally says, “I’ve never dated a trans person before. I don’t know what the protocol is. And I like you too much to want to go into this cold, in case I mess something up.”

Jake gives an involuntary laugh, a laugh of delight and relief. “Jeez, Ames, you had me _terrified_! I thought you were about to tell me you share your apartment with a one-man band or something.”

“You didn’t think I’d want to…” she trails off again.

“Honestly? It’s pretty rare that someone’s that up front about it.” Jake smiles wanly. “Usually it doesn’t come up until we’re gettin’ _down_.” He stretches out the last word in the hope that it covers his discomfort.

“Well, you know,” she has the good grace to also look a bit awkward. “I just want this to go well.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“So,” she says. She’s stopped outside a building that Jake assumes is her own. “Are you coming in?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t reckon the sidewalk is the best place to have this conversation.”

“Probably not,” she says. He takes her hand as she steps into the front porch. There’s a warm light from inside.

 

He’s 25 and there are words being thrown at him that he hasn’t heard for quite a while. He’s in the locker room at the police academy. All the other guys are so much bigger. It’s just like high school. They don’t lay a finger on him. They don’t need to.

 

And then he’s alone. He can hear their retreating laughter and the rush of his heartbeat and the steady drip-drip-drip of the showers. He runs shaky fingertips over his face, back and forth. He finds himself rocking, too. It’s an old method of calming himself down. _Old_ old.

“Hey.” He looks up sharply. Diaz, the Latina girl with the best beep test time in the training squad, is standing over him. He gives an ungainly squeal and pulls his uniform t-shirt over his head. She rolls her eyes but stays silent.

“You can’t- you’re not- this is the men’s locker room!”

“I saw those boneheads from the other squad walking back. Said they’d…” she trails off and sniffs. “Anyway, thought I’d come and see where you were. You OK?”

“I’m fine,” he says abruptly. “Just a misunderstanding.”

“Uh huh.” She sounds unconvinced.

“It’s because I have these scars…”

“On your chest? And you asked for a cubicle to change in?” Jake nods dumbly. “I got you. Knew a guy a few years ago. A trans guy. So I’m not new to it.”

There’s a pause. “Listen, uh, I’m not gonna fight your battles for you or anything. I’m sure after all this time you know better than I do. But I’m a Latina woman, you’re a trans guy.”

“A _Jewish_ trans guy,” Jake adds.

“Right. This is the NYPD. It’s not built for people like us, right? We gotta have each other’s backs.”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Good.” She sniffs again and Jake knows that the conversation is over. She biffs him gently on the shoulder.

“C’mon, dummy. There’s a falafel stand across the street and I’m hungry.”

 

He’s 19 and Gina’s playing solitaire.

“Gina,” he says. His voice is a little croaky. “Gina, look.”

“Mmhmm,” she says, not taking her eyes off her Motorola flip phone.

“Gina, look, I’m a T-rex!” He holds his hands up and shows how he can’t extend his arms more than a few inches from his side.

“That’s great, hun.”

She still isn’t looking at him, so he does his best impression of a T-rex. The croaky voice is his greatest asset.

She finally looks up, tries to be irritated, but her face softens.

“I’m happy for you, Pineapples.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, babe, you’re one step closer to being the Jewish Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson.”

He stares down at his chest. It’s flat in more ways than one.

“Maybe not, huh?” Gina says.

“Maybe not,” he replies, and settles back into the bed with a smile.

 

He’s 18 and his ass hurts, and the nurse stumbled over his name, and it’s been two whole hours and he can’t see any sign of a beard. But it’s progress. It’s the first step in a long process and he holds his sore ass with pride.

 

He’s 10 and people are still calling him ‘she’ and the boys at school don’t let him play with them. And he has no idea what’s ahead.


End file.
